Friday, May 29, 2009

Betty and I usally spend our birthdays whooping it up and painting the town red. This year is no different, in that we'll be spending our birthdays together, but we haven't quite figured out how we're going to whoop it up.

I know Genn6 will be joining us. And the Cap'n and Doc, of course. We've got the players we're just looking for a playground. But frankly, we're getting older. We're tired. We're sore. We're wore out from the day to day grind.

But dammit. The kids will be at my parents and I'm going to be irresponsible! I think I might have wine and liquor. I might wear a mini skirt at my advanced age. I'm going to take some wooden nickels and make sure my nose is NOT clean. I will welcome Greeks bearing gifts and I will suspect nothing. I'll count my chickens prior to hatching because all my eggs will be in one basket. I'm not going to walk on the sunny side of the street and I will not avoid talking to strangers. I'll put the cart in front of the horse and cry over the resulting spilt milk. I will leap not look. I plan on wasting nine by not stitching in time and I will serve up my revenge piping hot. I will practice moderation in NO things. I will watch the pot 'til it boils and it will boil. I'm going to be sorry instead of safe. I'll make my bed, but I won't lie in it. I will prove that youth is wasted on the aged.

In short: I want to have my cake and eat it too.

And at the suggestion of my pals, I will also:

Skyler's Dad said...I think you should burn the candle at both ends!

Cid said... While you're at it you should make hay while the sun shines and do someting really bad when it sets. Have fun!

The back in action Frank Sirmarco said...Mow your lawn in the dark. That usually freaks the neighbors out.

BeckEye said... I'll do a few cartwheels down 10th Avenue for you when I get off work.

Bubs said...And if you have to do any measuring, only measure once. You can always cut twice.

So, in conclusion, party people, If you're in the area, stop by Saturday night. There will be cartwheels.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

So, Mel Gibson is reproducing...AGAIN. This time it's with his new girlfriend, let's call her "Chump." This new information really draws all the strings together for me on this divorce. This is why his long suffering wife finally agreed to the divorce, I'm thinking. There's nothing quite as clear and final and undeniable as: I'm having an affair AND a love child.

It's funny. When you're first married, you think: This is forever! Yay! Then when the honeymoon's over and you hit your first rough patches, you think: This is forever...we can do it. But then you have some kids, hit some rough patches and maybe go broke in the process. Then you maybe think: Hey, who's that hot piece of ass over there? And run off. Or Maybe you think: This is forever and I made a committment and we're going to make it through this. Or maybe one of you says the former and one of you says the latter.

And maybe layered over that is this whole mantle of holiness that one of you, the former, has cloaked yourself in. You've made "authentic" movies about what it means to be a patriot, a freedom fighter, a martyr. But you're human, right? Maybe you just needed a roll in the hay with someone new for a change. There's no harm in that, if you don't get caught, you might think. But being human, your emotions got entangled and you trip yourself up. And now you're in a right mess and there's a baby involved.

And, being a Hollywood icon/leading man, you'll pick yourself up, dust yourself off and walk away unscathed. People will cut you a break. You may go on talk shows where people thoughtfully say, "huh," as you describe the problems in your marriage, your struggles and strife. They may even tear up over your ordeal, your battles with alcoholism/assholery. Then they'll coo over your new baby and snip/snap Bob's your uncle, you receive a lifetime achievment award and go to your new child's middle school graduation all in the same year.

But what if you're the latter? Sure, you're sitting on the pile of money that the State of California has awarded you. And you are enjoying your grandchildren in your golden years. But it kind of feels like failure. Where's my lifetime achievement award?, you might ask the universe. All you've gotten is invitations to Lifetime Movie pitch meetings to tell "your side of the story." Maybe you're thinking how unfair it all is, when you've tried to hold your family together only to watch your marriage fall away like so many Christmas tree pine needles.

I can almost imagine the day they had the conversation that started, "Honey, I'm having a baby with the other woman." The former, just trying to get through the moment. The latter having all suspicions confirmed. "Fine you can have the divorce" finally seeps from lips that once had a determined set, from a person who never dreamed that they would utter such defeat.

Then again, maybe the latter is the winner here. Afterall, she will get to see all of her children grow up. She gets to go through early middle age unecnumbered and independently wealthy. Maybe it is her turn to cry "Freedom!" and savor the time that is her own.

But what am I trying to say about this, you might ask. Good question, I'll say as I look off into the distance. Nothing, really. It's not a gender issue, so much. Though good luck having a baby after 50 as a woman. It is all Mel Gibson's fault, I'm thinking, as usual. More than anything, it's just the human condition. And sometimes, no matter how hard you try to honor your commitments, things just don't work out.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

So, I had this dream that I was going to Chicago to meet up with Bubs and the gang. I was driving around the city trying to find the place we were to meet. I had Doc in the car with me and we found ourselves on top of a tall building. We weren't sure what to do, so we looked around at the other cars. They were ramping off the buildings and landing on the streets below, no harm done. So I hit the gas and we were airborne. We landed with a thud and turned the corner to find our destination.

It was a white plantation style house, straight out of Atlanta. I knew then that Beth must also be joining us and I worried that I might not have packed a tiara. Doc said, "Don't worry, Darlin'; I'm sure they sell those in there."

Well, needless to say, I did finally make it to Chicago to meet with Bubs and Ms. Bubs and the lovely Nora. Sadly, there was no driving off buildings, nor was there any Beth or tiaras. But it was wonderful none the less.

We had agreed to meet up at the famous Hala Kahiki Tiki Bar and I arrived first. I let them know that I'd be there in a black sweater and my hair would be standing on end due to the high humidity. I found a place to park and grabbed the swag Doc had sent along with me, which included several Vampirella comic books, a Starlog magazine from back in the day and a few other comics. As I made my way through the door, I could smell the stale cigarette smoke which lingered even though the place was probably now smoke free for several years. I headed into the bar and tried to get the attention of the waitress.

"Are you selling something?" she asked, noting the books I was carrying.

"No, I'm meeting friends," I said.

She gave me a table and an eight page menu of drinks to entertain me until the Bubs's arrived. I flipped through the menu and watched the door as I wondered how this would go. So far, I have met Chris, from Some Guy's Blog, Coaster Punchman and Poor George, Beckeye, and Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein and I shouldn't be concerned as these have been delightful encounters, to be sure.

And it was.

Let me tell you, these are some of the sweetest, funniest, warmest people I have ever met. We chatted as we sipped our tropical drinks and watched the place fill up. Nora joined us and was as delightful as could be. After a while, we decided it was time to eat and made our way over to Gene's and Jude's for some of Chicago's famous hot dogs. Though, according to Ms. Bubs, they weren't the most authentic ones, since they lacked celery salt and some other key ingredients. But they were the bomb.

We headed back and said our goodbye's to Nora, who had school the next day. This time we were seated by a window that overlooked the atrium at the tiki bar. There were flowers and plants and a pond with a fountain, all dramatically lit by the thunderstorm. We chatted some more and had another drink. The waitress took our picture and then we decided to call it a night.

We parted company with promises to meet again. I told them to keep Groundhog's Day open. I also vowed to find a way to get Doc out to see this amazing place and meet these lovely people.

If you ever get the opportunity to meet fellow bloggers, I say this: Do. It is always a joy.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Well, I made it to Chicago, I'm glad to say. I even got here on the right day, which is an accomplishment to be sure. I'll be working tomorrow and Wednesday and flying out Thursday morning, which is a much more humane schedule than I took on my last trip to Tenessee. By the time my return planed landed I was weepy with exhaustion. This time, though, I'll have time to collect myself before heading home.

And what better way to collect oneself than to be in the company of long-time blogger buddies, Bubs, Johnny Yen, Grant Miller and possibly Splotchy? I'll be meeting up with them and any other Chibloggers that can make their way to the famed Hala Kahiki Tiki bar on Wednesday. I'm totally stoked! I'm also bummed that Doc can't be here. But hopefully, he'll be so jealous, we'll have to plan another trip out here together in the very near future.

I'll let you know how it goes and I promise to take lots of pictures. But for now, I'm taking my exhausted, travel-weary self to bed with a trashy novel. I realize it's only 6:30 p.m. central time, but I don't care. I'm butt tired. And those of us who watch Murder She Wrote know the value of an early bird special and an early bed time.

Oh, and about the title of this post: I did get felt up on the top half on the way through security. Apparently because my fleece sweatshirt was deemed "bulky" and might possibly be hiding incendiary devices. Lucky me.

Friday, May 08, 2009

Well, gang, I've got to get glasses, which is no surprise since I can no longer distinguish the dates on pennies and trying to untangle a necklace is an all day affair. Also, work is a challenge what with all the supercomputing I do. So, last fall, I bit the bullet and signed up for vision care. The enrollment period was in October and coverage was effective in December. I waited and waited and waited for my card to appear. Eventually it did...like say a week ago. So I made my appointment and a week later, I set off to have my eyes examined.

I don't know about you, but I LOVE getting my eyes examined. I've always had fine vision (except in college when I was experiencing the same issues I have now for the same basic reasons). So I get to sit in the dark and answer tons of questions I totally know the answer too, all while having my head in some super-sci-fi contraption. I have trouble governing my glee.

This last time was no different. I was really enjoying the exam. That is, until the doc went into his hard sell. I want to test you for cateracts (!) and I can do that by giving you the drops and basically fucking up your day or you can pay $35 and I can use my new toy to take a picture of your retina.

I told him I wasn't prepared to do either today and he said he'd set me up for an appointment when I pick up my glasses. I couldn't think of a way to weasel out; his sales mojo was too strong for me. So I submitted to the $35 test because I just couldn't obligate myself to one more thing. I don't have all day to waste with blurry vision and light sensitivity. In hindsight, I could have agreed to the appointment an skived off of it later. Rats! Why didn't I think of that at the time.

Once all the testing was done, he informed me that I was farsighted and that close up vision troubles occur earlier in our kind. That fact combined with my eye strain at work prompted him to give me a perscription for spectacles. He then escorted me over to the shopping area where I could pick out my new frames. He handed me off to the eyeglass sales person and bid me adieu. The glasses lady then immediately tried to sell me anti-glare lenses with all the tomfoolery of a warranty.

"I don't need that type of protection; I'll only be wearing these for work...I won't be driving or wearing them outside," I said.

"Well, it would still reduce glare..." she said, but I could see she had given up. She's obviously not the salesman her boss is.

After running through all the options, and telling her I wanted the type of frames where I pay nothing and my insurance covers it in total, which amounted to plastic lenses and plastic frames, she offered to find some frames for me. Why I couldn't walk over and look for them myself, I'll never know.

"Do you like trendy frames?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied.

She brought over eight pairs of glasses all identical but for the color. I tried them on and they were really too small for my face.

"Are there bigger frames than these?" I asked.

"You won't need bigger frames for what you're using them for," she snotted. Touche, I thought.

"Are these the only frames in my price range?"

"The only trendy ones..."

"How about the non-trendy ones?" I asked, knowing she was hiding something from me.

She sighed and gallumphed her way over to the frame ghetto where the cheapo frames were and I dogged her every step. She finally admitted that I could get any frame for $100 or less and she waved her hands in a general area of the frames that met my criteria. My eyes landed on the exact pair I wanted.

I tried them on and they were perfect. Black frames with rhinstone accents (natch). They fit my face just right.

"I like these!" I said.

"I didn't bring those over to you because I thought they were too big," she said, lamely.

Somehow, this felt like victory. That is until she told me that she'd call me when the frames were ready...in about a week.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

Hey, everybody...I've added a new chapter to my novel, Don't Look Down. I haven't touched the thing in almost a year, but there you go! If you want to read it, let me know in the comments and I'll invite you. I'd just need your email address.